Like We Never Loved At All
by itfeltlikethis
Summary: What happens when one of the members of Strike Team Delta, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s closest strike team, decides to split from the agency? *ONE SHOT*


"I can't do it anymore Nat."

The familiar nickname echoed around S.H.I.E.L.D. and he walked away. Turned on his heel and left behind everything he had ever known. He left the only girl he had ever loved, knowing that he would never love like that again. The fire that had fueled his life for so long died and once more he was the screw-up.

She was left holding his bow. He had put his quiver over her back. The weight of the weapons wasn't foreign but the whole situation felt wrong. He should have been there, telling her how to hold the bow and nock the arrow, even though she knew very well how to do both those things. She stood very still, uncertain for the first time in a long time where she was supposed be.

They found her hour later, when they realized he had left. Coulson opened the door to her room at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and saw exactly what he had known he would find. But even years of knowing both agents did not prepare him for this and he stood frozen in the doorway. Agent Hill pushed passed him, talking into her comms, calling a med team to the living quarters. Natasha Romanoff was lying on her bed, the covers and the floor around it littered with empty bottles. Coulson had never thought he would see the day when Natasha would get herself drunk, in fact he hadn't been entirely certain she could. She was Russian that way. As the med team carried her out he saw the pain on her face and then he understood. All those bottles and she had finally given up. She surrendered to the pain, accepting that it would never go away. He looked at the small patch on the bed where she had been lying and saw the bow and quiver, lying on top of a small black book.

Time passed. She thought she had them all fooled. She acted the part of the faithful agent, taking all the risky missions and performing as flawlessly as ever. She thought she was the only one who could see the pain that rocked her body every time a pair left on a mission. She didn't know that everyone else could tell all the life had left her eyes.

Fury called her in for a mission. She wanted to say no. This was the one place she didn't want to go, she couldn't go. But Fury fixed his line eye on her and she said yes. Fury nodded. He needed his best agents in Budapest. She strapped in a couple knives and she slid her guns into their holsters. The last thing she did was an added step. He tightened the strap of the quiver that she had already filled with arrows. She put the bow in her hand and bit back a strike of pain at the familiar weight. That was it. She walked out of the room with a stoic face and hit the helipad.

Natasha felt the adrenaline rush through her as she somersaulted out if the flaming helicopter. She landed hard on the roof and let herself fall through the open door. She crept down the hall, looking for the room she needed. She found it numbered just as they had said: 0-8-4. Beforeshe might have laughed at the irony, but now she just picked the lock and went inside. A quick scan showed her no physical guards and the staff she had come for on the wall. She swept the wall with a device to check for electronic security. Finding it clean she took the staff and turned to the door.

"Did you really think it would be that easy, Agent Romanoff?"

She was tied to a chair. Her legs and arms were bound and she was gagged. She almost didn't care about that though. What hurt the most was they had taken the bow. It was all she had left. She told everyone she had let go and moved on, but she hadn't actually. She hadn't been forced to-until now. Now she was stuck and she had to get herself out without counting on his backup. Her interrogator paced back and forth in front of her, not saying anything, just watching her. She wasn't entirely sure what he was waiting for, when he spoke.

"Where is he?" Natasha didn't let her confusion show, seeing as the "he" they were talking about might be keeping her alive. She also didn't answer, not that she had a choice thanks to the gag.

"We will find him." The man bored into her with his black eyes. "He cannot hide from us forever, and he would not leave without you." Natasha was starting to form a half-way idea of what they thought was happening here, an idea that was quickly confirmed with her captor's next sentence.

"The Hawk cannot hide from us forever." This time Natasha could not hide the pain that coursed through her, and she didn't bother. The truth was, the Hawk could hide forever because the Hawk didn't exist anymore. He was gone, flown away from the nest, and he had left. _He left without her_. The interrogator mistook her expression.

"Yes. We know he is here. Where else would he be? And we know just how to draw him out." He raised his hand and struck Natasha across the jaw. She steeled herself for whatever was coming-she had no way out.

Several hours later, Natasha was in bad shape. She had at least a couple broken ribs and dozens of nasty bruises forming all over her body. She didn't bother trying to fight back. Why should she? There was only the drink to go back to and she was sure they had vodka in hell. So she let them beat her nearly unconscious, and still they raged.

"Where is he?" several of the men growled at another, "Your intel said this" they gestured to Natasha, "would draw him out!"

"It should have," the man paused, "we will have to proceed drastically." He walked over and pushed Natasha's chair to the edge of the chasm behind her and tilted her back, very close to falling.

_Let me go, please, let me die_. She was ready to go from this world that masqueraded as heaven into the hell she knew was waiting for her.

"Last chance, Hawk!" the man yelled, "show yourself now, or she dies!"

_He's not coming. He won't come for me ever again._

She closed her eyes as the pressure on her chair increased, prepared for death. But just before she slipped out of consciousness the legs of her chair thumped down hard and it jolted her wide awake. Her captor was lying on the floor, an arrow sticking out of his chest. She saw the other bodies lying around, all similarly deposed. She felt the confusion and despair overwhelm her-she had to be hallucinating. Just then, she knew she wasn't imagining anything when four quick slices cut her bindings loose and two muscular arms caught her as she fell.

"Hello Nat."

When she woke up, everything was white. She started to push herself up, but two gentle hands pushed her back against the pillows. She knew he was there. Of course he was. He probably hadn't slept much, or eaten much. It was hard to eat and sleep when you spend the entire day in a chair next to a hospital bed. She knew that from experience, but she still wouldn't turn her head. It would hurt too much, more than all the physical pain she was already in. He took hold of her jaw and turned it toward him, forcing her emerald eyes to stare into his light colored ones. They didn't speak for the longest time, just sat there looking at one another. Finally, he broke the silent tension.

"Natasha..." It was quiet, barely above a whisper.

"Did they tell you?" She matched his volume and still managed to fill her voice with insurmountable pain. He looked back at her with question in his eyes.

"How bad it got."

"Oh." It only took him a single syllable to say all she needed to hear.

"Why did you come back?"

His whole face twisted, then he gave her a small smile.

"Same old Natasha." She gave him the look, the one he knew so well, that said don't mess with me now or I will kill you and he said, ever so softly,

"Why do you think I came back?"

He gently shifted her so he could sit next to her and wrap his arms around her as she gave in to the weakness that had been threatening the whole conversation. She had been strong for too long, so he just held her and silently promised her he would never let go again.


End file.
